


close as you can (not one inch less)

by StripySock



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Exhibitionism, Fingerfucking, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Step-Brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripySock/pseuds/StripySock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Everyone thinks that stepbrothers Jared and Jensen are just really affectionate with each other. The truth is that they get off on hiding in plain sight, pushing the limits of how far they can go in public and not get caught.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	close as you can (not one inch less)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to MissM for her beta work.
> 
> Written for spn_masquerade. Jared is 17 in this fic.

Jared meets him at the airport, hangs over the barrier waiting for him, and knows that Jensen sees him in the crowd immediately. Jensen drops his bag and hugs Jared so close that they’re getting amused looks from other people passing by. Jared can feel Jensen muffle his smile in the clammy skin of Jared’s neck, mock bite at the tender skin, knows Jensen can feel the delicate shiver go through Jared at the touch of his mouth, breaks away just as Jared’s dad arrives from parking up the car. They shake hands before Gerard tugs Jensen in for a hug, tells him he’s glad he’s back from college, and leads the way to the car, towing Jensen’s suitcase for him, while Jensen walks side by side with Jared, bumps hips with him occasionally, always with the same huge smile on his face like he can’t believe he’s home. 

In the car, Jensen gets into the back with Jared - Gerard says they’re the only siblings he’s ever met, step or not, at any age, who don’t fight for shotgun, and he shoots them a look of approval - like everyone else he’s glad they get along so well, and he likes having the front free anyway so there’s no interference with the radio. Deep down between their knees, where Gerard can’t see, Jensen’s got Jared’s hand in his, tangles their fingers together and stares at him with a smile that says everything words can’t. Jared squeezes back, doesn’t care how damp they get, hot slide of their hands against each other just a prequel to what they’re going to do once they get home.

Gerard asks questions about college, Jensen answers alertly and well, tells all the fun, safe stories about classes and crazy professors, nothing like the ones he tells Jared down the phone, voice lazy and low, until Jared’s got his fingers in his pants, doesn’t care what Jensen says, as long as he says it like that, blows futile loads in his shorts just thinking about Jensen, gets hot and cold with jealousy down his spine when he thinks what Jensen might be doing,  _who_  he might be doing, but Jensen won’t be drawn on that. When Jensen leans forward to explain some minor point to Gerard about the canteen options this year, Jared has to suck in a startled squeak because Jensen lets go of his hand and puts it on his knee instead, heavy and warm against his skin, just a little under the cargo shorts Jared’s wearing, and that’s playing dirty.

Jared likes it. He’s missed this. Not just the way Jensen touches him, the way Jensen makes every bit of him come alive and spark to attention, but the way Jensen does it wherever he damn wants. He thinks there must be something wrong with him, something screwed up, how hard it gets him when Jensen touches him in front of people, slides a hand down his shoulder, wraps an arm round Jared’s shoulders and squeezes his bicep, how the breath gets caught in his throat and his dick swells just from Jensen being next to him, bright sharp smell of his aftershave caught in the air like a signal just for Jared. Wrong or right  (and the answer to that is simple), it makes him feel like nothing else can. So he touches Jensen back, leans forward a little bit as well and lets his arm play down the length of Jensen’s spine, until he reaches the swift swoop of his t-shirt hem and shamelessly feeds his fingers between the gap, light tickle of fingers against Jensen. He wants to follow the swoop of his back down to that tempting dip, but Jensen’s fingers squeeze on his knee, an implicit warning.

He’s so absorbed in their touch that he almost misses his dad’s question. “You don’t mind sharing with Jared, do you, Jensen? I know it’s not ideal, your mom and I can figure something else out if we need to, we’re just short on space at the moment. I’m sure Donna will tell you all about it.”

“No problem at all,” Jensen says with the politeness even amongst family, that marks him out as the golden boy, the  _nice_  one.

“No-one asked me,” Jared says mournfully, and next second they’re scuffling in the back of the car, Jensen pressing into Jared, solid length of his legs between Jared’s as he pretends to remind Jared of the pecking order.

Gerard is laughing at them in the front, secure in the knowledge that they get on too well to argue in earnest, not privy to the hand Jensen’s got between Jared’s legs, the unsubtle press of his fingers to Jared’s dick through his shorts, because Gerard keeps his eyes on the road and Jared knows that’s what Jensen’s relying on.

“Boys,” he says, “come on, seatbelts,” because safety first, and Jared shoves Jensen off, risks a quick, disgusting lick to his face just for the look of outrage on Jensen’s face, and the taste of Jensen in his mouth, sucks it off his tongue with a smile.

The rest of the ride Jared spends with anticipation crawling headily up his spine, hands squeezed between his knees so he doesn’t do anything obscene. Only Jensen does this to him, makes him want to open up and spread out and show himself off. Only with Jensen is it so completely forbidden. They stop off on the way, go through a drive-through because the day is hot and Jared forgot the water - a circumstance that provides Jensen with a chance to grip his neck playfully and shake him like a kitten - Jared sways with it because Jensen’s fingers on the soft skin of his throat make him want to choke up confessions, and Jensen’s eyes look ready to swallow him up.

Afterwards he sucks on the straw and looks at Jensen from under his eyelashes, a parody of innocence, a perversion of it, grips it between his teeth and drags it through, his father oblivious, sitting in the front and peering through the windshield, a contorted look of disgust on his face at the sight of the traffic. Jensen takes the cup of soda from him, puts his mouth where Jared’s mouth had been, and drinks, and it’s a little bit gross but Jared’s stomach gives one hard throb at the sight, like it’s not a straw Jensen’s lips are wrapped around. He wants to kiss Jensen, taste the sticky-sweet soda clinging to his tongue, drink from him like he’s drowning underwater, and it’s burning up inside him.

He’s been waiting for Jensen to get home, waiting for this since Christmas, a hard ball of excitement in his chest mingled with fear in case Jensen’s changed his mind, in case none of it meant anything at all, easy come and easy go. Now they’re pressed thigh to thigh and he can taste sweetness in his mouth and summer on his skin and it’s going to be so  _good_.

When they pull into the drive, Donna’s there to meet them. Her hair gently wilts in the heat and the cool cotton of the dress she wears to impress clients is clinging damply to her knees, but she enfolds Jensen in a hug, and steers him inside. Gerard insists on grabbing the bags and Jared tails in behind them, feels unwanted and forgotten even though he sees her every day and Donna  _isn’t_  his mom, and he’s glad because otherwise what he does with Jensen would be three times as bad. He’s itching all under his skin, though, like the patience that’s served for the five months since he last saw Jensen has suddenly run out, wellspring of it dry and wanting inside him.

Gerard unknowingly saves him when he demands a hand with taking Jensen’s bags up to Jared’s room, and Jensen follows them up. They’ve cleared out the desk from under Jared’s bunk and put the second bed back in, and it’s made up and pristine. Jensen’s got an arm thrown over his shoulder casually, chummily, asks him loud and clear,  _top or bottom_.

_Either_ , he replies, dead serious because Jensen can do what he wants, can touch him how he likes, and Jared’s going to come like that, and he doesn’t care exactly how. His dad grunts approvingly at this uncharacteristic lack of sibling squabbles, like he thinks they’ve grown up, when they’re just playing a whole new game. Donna shouts up that she’s made iced tea and Gerard is gone, stairs two at a time like he’s no older than his sons, leaving Jared and Jensen alone for the first minute since the stolen airport seconds.

There’s no time for tension because Jensen’s mouth is sweet on Jared’s, soft push of his lips coaxing a response out of Jared, sucking his breath out until Jared feels hollowed with it, dizzy and strange. He stumbles forwards and Jensen goes willingly, flops back onto the bed and Jared crawls on top of him, ducks his head under the lowness of the bed above, rocks down hard as Jensen tugs his lip between his teeth, sucks on it until it’s raw and puffy and red, even a little sore with an ache that sets up residence in Jared’s bones. They’re being messy, deliberately so, and Jared’s caught up in it, the sharp shiver of pleasure up his spine when he gets the angle just right between them, even if it’s just frottage and through their clothes at that. Jensen’s cupping his ass through his shorts, fingers digging into the muscle, pulling him in, and Jared’s so close to coming, just from the hot  sigh of Jensen’s mouth on his, the grind of their hips.

Their mother’s “Boys!” breaks the moment, and the steady tramp of feet up the stairs completes the frustration. Jared rolls off Jensen, quick as thought, goes to fiddle with the window in the hopes of maybe getting some cooler air - he feels like he’s going to sweat to death - although it seems unlikely that the temperature’s gone up that much in the hours Jensen’s been back in state. Jensen’s lounging on the bed, knee crooked up when Donna raps on the door, then comes in anyway with two glasses of iced water which she hands over with a smile, and a reminder that they’re going out for dinner tonight now that Jensen’s home.

The door shuts safely behind her and Jared drains the water, presses the sweating glass against his forehead, trembles with the near sweet shock of discovery, adrenaline high and pounding in his blood. He doesn’t know what it is that Jensen does to him, what secret dark bit he unearths in Jared that makes him want to risk everything like this. It strips away decency, ignores the claims of morality and even that most basic, deepest instinct of self preservation.

Jensen approaches him, and Jared sucks in a breath because he wants all over again, the solid strength of Jensen’s body - college has been good to him, he’s grown up in a way that Jared envies deeply, caught as he feels as an awkward seventeen year old, too lanky and tall and ungraceful in any of the ways that matter. Jensen doesn’t look like he agrees from the way his eyes roam Jared, and then catch at his. “We should go downstairs,” he mutters, and Jensen hmms in reply, before he takes off his shirt, lean and defined, nipples pink against his tanned skin - Jared’s frozen to the spot at the sight - and rummages for a new one in his unpacked case, before he grins at Jared and pulls it over his head.

“Absolutely,” Jensen says. “Sit next to me tonight?”

It’s not really a request, and Jared feels a tremor of anticipation settle itself into the base of his spine. He’d like to say he’s an exhibitionist, that having Jensen touch him when and where he wants, laying his mark on him and etching it in, isn’t all about the fact it’s Jensen doing it. But he isn’t. He’s just hardwired now to want this, hardwired since Jensen kissed back that first time. He’s been hopelessly Jensen’s since the day they met, hopelessly in love since the first time he kissed Jensen - so fucked up on cheap vodka, lying in the back of Jensen’s car while Jensen pissed and moaned, like the biggest hypocrite on the face of the planet, about responsibility and drinking sensibly, carting his little brother home and hiding it from their parents. Jensen didn’t kiss him back when Jared pulled him down, and tried to kiss him, lips unyielding and firm against Jared’s drunken sloppy attempt. He pulled back and left Jared there, so ashamed that he wanted to curl up and die.

Then Jensen finally kissed back, kissed him, after bleak awful months of fighting, shy and strange like he’d been the one who broke the new-brother pact first, months in which even if Jensen hadn’t noticed before, he had to notice then that Jared was head over heels  for him. When Jensen kissed him on the wrong side of an emergency room door, thinnest curtain between them and their parents, there was nothing about it that Jared was going to say no to. And if in the smallest bit of him, there’s something that flares hotter at the thought of fooling everyone, of having Jensen without a single one of them knowing? Well, there’s a bonus.

 

He pulls on a fresh shirt of his own and follows Jensen downstairs to the kitchen where Donna waves him in and pours him a glass of ice tea, makes him sit down with her and Jensen. Jensen tells about his semester, and twines his bare feet with Jared’s under the table, slow rub together that sends goosepimples up Jared’s legs. He keeps a listening expression on his face, but doesn’t hear one word in ten.

He tunes back in, though, right in time to hear “...I bumped into Mrs Robinson in town yesterday, she said Emma’s home already. You should give her a call,” because Jared’s step-mom has many admirable traits but subtlety is not one of them.

Jared tries not to look at Jensen’s face too closely but he doesn’t need to. “We broke up ages ago, mom,” Jensen says. “I think she’s got a new boyfriend, I saw something about it on facebook.”

Donna waves a hand in dismissal. “I wasn’t thinking that at all,” and Jared snickers, ducking the mock swat of her hand because along with her lack of subtlety, she’s not shy at all about Jensen finding the right girl someday. He’s pretty sure that by the right girl, she doesn’t mean Jared, though.

Jensen plays along. “Sure you’re not. And before you ask, nobody serious at college either,” and as though he’s trying to drive Jared mad, he drags one foot up his leg, like they’re fifteen year olds too shy to make the first proper move, and then he puts the lid on it, he gives a sunshine smile and tells them both about the party Danni’s throwing tomorrow.

Donna says all the right things about catching up with his friends though Jared thinks she’s a little disappointed that Jensen doesn’t want to stick around at home for a couple of days at least. He’s not really listening over the seething resentment in his blood, the sudden fear. They’ve made no promises, this thing doesn’t invite words, and he’s pretty sure that Jensen’s lips around his dick once, at Christmas, doesn’t constitute some legally binding agreement, much as he’d like that. Nor do their late night conversations on the phone, starting well and ending better with muttered filth that makes Jared shiver down to his toes and palm his dick as he sinks his voice down so his parents won’t hear even if they walk past his room. That’s until Jensen leans back on his chair, balanced on two legs and says, “Danni invited you as well, Jared. You can be my plus one.”

He’s not going to lie. Part of the reason he’s excited is because Jensen’s two years older. His friends have always been the cool friends - Jared likes his own friends just fine but if he had the choice he’d hang out with Jensen and the people he knows all of the time - and it’d been the grievance of half his high school years that he hadn't been allowed to go to most of their parties. It's different now.

"Sure, sweetie," he says and makes a grotesque kissing face. "I'll be your plus one."

Donna rolls her eyes. "Look after him, Jensen," she says, like Jared's seven, not seventeen. "I mean it, you hear?"

Jared's torn between outrage and a knowledge of which battle to pick. Prudence wins out in the end and he disentangles his feet from Jensen's, and stands up to stretch and get another glass of tea from the counter, knowing without even looking that Jensen is watching every twitch, watching the new broad spread of Jared's shoulders, and maybe he is showing off just a little, possessed with an urge to flaunt that consumes him, but Jensen did it without even thinking and maybe he wants just a little payback. It's worth it. Jensen's eyes are fixed and unblinking as he looks Jared up and down in one slow look, like he finally gets what he's coming home to.

At this moment, with that look in Jensen's eyes, Jared would do whatever he wanted. Would sink to his knees right here in the kitchen and show Jensen that whatever college can give him or old friends or ex flames, that it's nothing to how Jared will make him feel. Hell, he'd do half of what they'd talked about on the phone - lazy, dirty words pushing far beyond where they've ever touched, almost chaste from Jensen's insistence, intimacy skirting the line of impossible denial. He’d spread his legs and get his fingers up into his ass, fuck them just a little, like he's done once or twice in bed at night, Jensen on the phone, sugar-sweet in his ear.

But they're in front of Jensen's mother and Jared doesn't have any kind of death wish that he knows of, so he drops his eyes down and drinks his tea, pretends not to see anything, wonders how Donna can miss it.

At the restaurant it's twice as bad, because again, they sit close enough that their feet can nudge, and Jensen touches him beneath the table, not a little bit of shame in him, sits forward at the table and slides two fingers down the small of Jared's back, traces the dip of his spine, and sinks down into his pants until they rest at the beginning of his ass, dip a little into the crease and that's all Jared can take, dick hot and heavy from the touches that Jensen hands out like they're candy. "Going to the bathroom," he mutters and escapes, thinking maybe he'll beat off in a stall and that might keep his dick under control.

Of course thirty seconds later, Jensen's there, and Jared's got his hands in his hair as Jensen kisses him, slips him tongue that has Jared almost choking on the way he wants to moan into Jensen's mouth. "Come on," he says, because he's keyed up, and it won't take much, might just take a hand or a mouth on him to send him spurting, weak and quaking out of control. He's had Jensen's mouth on him once before and almost cried with how good it felt that time, wonders if he can convince Jensen to go to his knees in here and let him feel it again.

"Pants off," Jensen says, voice of sense in a senseless world, and Jared does it, pushes them down until he's hobbled and bare in front of Jensen's gaze, feeling like a colt, all legs and dick that Jensen makes him feel like he doesn't know how to use until Jensen touches him. It's a handjob - not the first one, though it's the first time like this, in public, about thirty feet away from people who might hear them, might know what they're doing. Jensen's feeding Jared’s dick through his fist, fat head revealed on each stroke, fast and sure, and Jared's leaking all over his goddamned hand, generous pulses of pre-come that've disconcerted some girls in the past but that Jensen seems to relish, thumbing through it, just past the sensitive slit, and Jared bucks in reaction, feeling it all through his hips and in his balls, a sharp painful twang of feeling. It's an easy glide in Jensen's fist - Jared's never looked so big, he thinks, as he does against that large hand, and Jensen isn't even looking at him, not really, he's staring at the thick flesh in his hands as though he's been mesmerised.

Jared's on the edge now, feels the tightness in his balls and the burn in his belly, scrabbles uselessly at Jensen, erratic hip thrusts ruining the rhythm that Jensen's built up for him, and Jensen gets it, crouches down and lets Jared come in his mouth, sucks him down and in, hollows his cheeks around the length of Jared's cock. Jared comes like a shot, bites into his hand so he doesn’t shout, pumps himself into Jensen’s mouth until he’s helpless and dizzy from the high.

Jensen pulls away with an audible pop that blows Jared’s mind some more, and pulls up his pants when he stands up, tucks Jared’s dick away, still damp from his mouth and oversensitive - even the cotton of his boxers feels too much, and when he kisses Jared, Jared can taste the bitter sharpness of his own come, but he doesn’t care about the taste when he gets it like this - sucks it off Jensen’s tongue until they’re both gasping. When he tries groping Jensen, though, Jensen pulls away.

“No time for that,” he says. “I told our parents you looked like you weren’t feeling so great. Any longer and your dad’s gonna check on us.” When Jared tries to protest from some deeply ingrained sense of fair play, Jensen shushes him. “You can blow me tonight,” he says. “Under the blankets, in our room.” Jared’s knees, weakened from their encounter, almost give out at that, and he follows Jensen back through, mouth swallowing around the phantom imagined sensation of Jensen’s dick pushing at the back of his throat.

The main course is on the table by the time they get back and Gerard and Donna are looking a little tight and anxious round the eyes. Jared makes his excuses, wonders whether he shouldn't eat to add some veracity to his account but the food wins out. He is still trembling just a little from the aftershocks of an intense orgasm, and mostly just concentrates on his plate hoping Jensen won't do something to drive him mad before the end of the meal.

Jensen doesn’t touch him once during the rest of the dinner, not on the shoulder, not a shove to the arm or a smack on the head, and the complete absence of extended touch is as dizzyingly exciting in its own way as the surfeit was. Jared follows suit, plays along and pretends, keeps the space between them a sacred thing.

Back at home, Jensen pleads the flight as an excuse to turn in early. Jared lingers downstairs until he’s sure it doesn’t look suspicious that he’s so eager to sleep himself. When he lets himself in, the room is dark and stuffy, soft whir of a fan on the desk, and he feels his way by instinct over, stripping off his t-shirt and kicking off his jeans. He’s volunteered to take the top bunk, but he’s expecting the sudden touch of Jensen’s hand in the darkness, folds himself in and under. Jensen’s naked, and Jared didn’t expect that for some reason, Jensen smooth and hot under his hands and fucking naked. He can’t help the sound he lets out and Jensen clasps a hand over his mouth, adds a kick of fear to the heat in Jared’s gut.

The house is winding down, their parents are downstairs, faint distant blur of the TV but that means nothing at all. Jensen’s hand is like a brand across Jared’s mouth and he doesn’t move it, makes Jared suck in air as best as he can until he bites at Jensen’s fingers, lines them up alongside each other, hip to hip, chest to chest, solid weight of Jared on every inch of Jensen, and Jared’s struck with uncertainty. Jensen gets it, like he always does, pushes at Jared. “On the floor,” he whispers, and Jared means to roll off gently, but he miscalculates it and lands with a thud that has him listening for an annoyed reprimand from downstairs. It doesn’t come. He pictures their parents listening, paused like statues, ears cocked for the sound of their sons, and his dick twitches.

Jensen exits the bottom bunk with substantially more grace, crawls over Jared and straddles him, easy and loose, Jared can barely see him in the dark but he can feel every inch. His mouth falls open, and he thinks how like an invitation it would look if Jensen could see it. Wonders if Jensen will fuck his mouth like that, make Jared take every inch, keep him quiet not with his hands but with his cock, wants it and doesn’t know how to ask for any of this.

It doesn’t seem like Jensen needs Jared to ask, though; he’s rubbing his fingers over the hardness of Jared’s nipples, his hands skimming the flatness of his belly, dipping into the curve of his hips, until he gets a hand around Jared’s dick. In an instinct of reciprocation, Jared traces the hard, hot line of Jensen’s dick, then with an excess of courage, he gets his hands round Jensen’s lean hips and pulls, feels the initial resistance before Jensen yields to him, shuffles up far enough that Jared can get his lips round Jensen’s dick. He’s never sucked cock before, his experience with men is limited to what Jensen’s done to him and an embarrassing amount of gay porn that made this look so much easier than it actually is.

The angle’s all wrong. His neck cricks as he tries to get more than the head into his mouth, it scrapes across his crooked bottom teeth, and Jensen lets out a low stifled sound, pulls back, leaves Jared to chase him, until Jensen gets what he wants, crawls up a little further, pushes open Jared’s mouth, scrapes his thumb over Jared’s teeth, then pushes in, hot and heavy on Jared’s tongue, too much and not enough in exactly the same second. He feels like he’s choking in the darkness of the night, air replaced with Jensen, leaking steadily into his mouth, taste bitter on his tongue for moments only before Jensen’s cock bumps the back of his mouth and Jared almost chokes around him, seizes up for a second and Jensen’s still, until Jared sucks at what he can, and Jensen gets that he doesn’t want to stop.

It feels like it lasts for an eternity, slippery weight of Jensen’s dick on his tongue, shallow thrusts that go nowhere fast, and Jared thinks if his mouth wasn’t full he’d be moaning. If he had any shred of embarrassment left in him, he’d be flushed with how much he likes this, not in the hypothetical, but the actual, long lazy strokes of Jensen’s dick owning his mouth, Jensen’s hand in his hair tugging idly at the strands. Jared’s not on the edge, this is a different burn, can’t even get his hands round his own dick because they’re occupied with Jensen, but he doesn’t regret it.

When Jensen finally comes, Jared can’t swallow it, not at the angle he’s in; it pools in his mouth, kind of gross on his tongue, all Jensen and painfully hot. He’s hoping that Jensen will kiss him, and Jensen seems to be intent on making everything Jared wants happen tonight, bends himself almost in half to kiss him, swipes his tongue in. It sends a spike of heat down Jared’s spine and jerks his dick, the sheer filthiness of it all, spread out flat on the floor, his brother’s dick down his throat, his come in his mouth, knowing in every fibre of him how wrong it is. Jensen takes his time kissing him, pulls at the flesh of his lip until it’s swollen and painful and Jared’s jerking his hips up in desperation, untouched and painfully hard. Jensen’s just interested in kissing him, though, slow and deep, and Jared swears he can feel eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

“You are not falling asleep on me like that,” he says when Jensen pulls back just a little. “I mean it,” because Jensen’s lips are curved in a smile against his now.

“You sure you don’t want to stay hard,” Jensen murmurs, soft catch of words so quiet in the darkness that even Jared can barely hear him. “You could lie there in the dark and not touch yourself, fall asleep frustrated. Wake up tomorrow and I’ll suck you off before breakfast if you’re a good boy.”

It’s painfully cheesy, Jared’s pretty sure he’s seen the movie that Jensen’s cribbing dialogue from, but that doesn’t stop it from being  _hot_ , not when Jensen’s thumb is stroking his cheek, rubbing across his skin, and Jared can still taste Jensen’s come in his mouth. “Sounds good,” he whispers. “I have a better suggestion. Get me off now  _and_  suck me off tomorrow, you lazy asshole.” Hey, he was first an only child and then the youngest son, he’s used to being spoilt a little bit.

Jensen snorts against him, indrawn huff of air that Jared’s more used to hearing when Jensen’s trying not to answer back one of their parents. His breath is gentler, more regular now, Jared knows that breathing, he’s shared a room with it for years. The fucker is genuinely on the verge of sleep. Even tired, though, Jensen knows his business, rolls off Jared and curls his fist around Jared’s dick, jerks him off the way that he seems to know will get him off faster, bites at his mouth, the sore tenderness of his lips, the line of his neck, prickle of teeth and hot breath as he tugs at Jared’s skin, and okay, Jared might be an easy lay because he comes fast and hard.

Jensen wipes his hand on Jared’s belly, fine disregard for decency, same way he used to rub Jared’s face in the mud when they wrestled, and they tussle for a few violent seconds, bound by the need to be quiet, before Jensen crawls into bed. Jared hesitates, fights an internal war. He wants to crawl in next to him, but he’s not sure that he’ll wake up early enough to crawl out again in time. Discretion might be the better part of valour, but part of Jared doesn’t want Jensen to assume this is just Jared offering his ass on a plate. So he crawls in beside him, mellow heat of Jensen, tucks in and hopes like hell he’ll wake up in the morning.

 

He does, just in time. Their mother has learnt through hard experience not to come in without knocking, but it’s still a case of a minute’s grace. Jared peels himself off Jensen, who is still deeply and soundly asleep, and grabs a towel. Donna is lurking outside the door as though in wait, and he smiles at her, ambles on down to the bathroom, breath hitching at the lucky escape. He’s fresh and clean out of the shower when he happens to glance in the mirror, and bites his tongue on the  _fuck_  that wants to escape. His neck is bruised from Jensen’s mouth, little red marks, nothing as bad as one obvious hickey but enough to make it clear that someone’s had their mouth on him. In this kind of weather he’s not wearing a scarf, so he decides to brazen it out.

 

Downstairs at the kitchen table he pours himself some juice. It’s a Sunday so both Donna and Gerard are there still. Both of them look at him, both of them stare at his neck and then say nothing at all. He’s almost high on the thrill of it, wonders what they’d say if they knew Jensen was the cause. Wonders if they’d accept that Jensen had done it on a dare, some stupid brotherly bet, wonders how much they’d swallow never to have to doubt in the family fiction they maintain every day. Jensen on the other hand, clean and fresh from his own shower, isn’t bruised at all, and Jared resolves in his  heart of hearts that that’s not going to stand. Two can play at the marking game.

“What are you going to do today?” Jared’s dad asks, face buried in the Sunday paper, and Jared hesitates. He knows what he wants to do, but every step of this is new and terrifying. Being with Jensen isn’t like dating at school, icecream and cinema.

“I’m going to catch up with Jared before I have to share him with Danni this evening,” Jensen says, not a moment of hesitation. Jared imagines it, Danni and Jensen at once, and almost chokes to death on his juice. Imagines Jensen sharing him, pushing him over to Danni for her to try out, and almost concusses himself at the idea. Looking up, he catches Jensen’s eye and Jensen looks like he knows exactly what Jared’s thinking.

Donna gives a warm little smile at them both. “That’s nice,” she says. She doesn’t ask if they haven’t caught up already, if there’s no-one else Jensen would rather see. That’s what being brothers gets them, Jared supposes.

Jensen works during term time from preference if not outright need, and he has an internship for the last month before he goes back which Jared doesn’t even want to think about, smouldering anger at their time being cut short. It means that his days before it starts are empty, though, practically his last chance, and he can’t help loving that Jensen’s chosen to spend them with him.

“Yeah,” he says, and kicks out a long leg, catches Jensen on the ankle. “I can show him round all the new and fascinating sights that’ve sprung up in his absence.”

Gerard grins behind his paper. “Don’t forget the new bakery,” he says.

Jared waves his hands like tour guide Barbie. “To your right the new bakery, to your left the old coke can that nobody has moved in months. I think it counts as a county monument by now.”

“Don’t overwhelm me with excitement, my heart can’t take it. I’m old now,” Jensen says.

Donna swats him over the head as she passes. “Less of the old talk when we’re around. Jared, you take him out. You can do me a favor while you’re out as well and pick up some groceries, so that me and your father can have a quiet night in, while you two tear up the town.”

“It’s Danni’s house,” Jensen says. “No tearing up. Probably not even any music. We’ll sit in sedate silence.”

“And play snap and drink lemonade,” Donna supplies. “I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.” She hands over the list to Jared and forks over some cash. “Take him out for a lemonade,” she says with a touch of sarcasm, “he’ll need it to get ready for later.”

Jared grins, “Sure thing,” he says, folds the money away, and drains back the last of the juice.

They have a car, technically Jensen’s, morally Jared’s, or at least so Jared views it. If Jensen wants to go to college and leave his shit behind, then by rights, it becomes Jared’s. Jensen doesn’t see to eye to eye on that at all, and it’s half a genuine squabble, half a chance for Jensen to wrestle Jared against the car and get his hands in his pockets to get the keys. Gerard wanders past to laugh at them both and refuse to adjudicate, as Jensen gets his hands in Jared’s pocket and grinds against his thigh, takes advantage of the breathless freeze Jared affects at the sight of his dad to fish them out.

“Mine,” he says with an infuriating grin, because blowjobs or no blowjobs, he’s still an irritating fuck when he puts his mind to it, no blood between them, every inch Jared’s brother in all the ways that matter, which, sickly, just gets him hotter. Not that he’ll ever admit to that bit of it.

They don’t get back for hours, spending the morning in a way that Jared thinks is almost actually brotherly, hands to themselves, inches between them (most of the time) and his skin feels hot and taut with the need to have Jensen’s hands on it, when he’s gone so long without. The evening is going to be a wash as well, a house full of Jensen’s friends, Jensen’s not going to have time for him, not going to risk blowing their cover. So he’s in a shitty mood as he strips off in their bedroom, preparing for one more quick shower before he gets ready, before Jensen pokes his head round the door, takes him in in one glance.

“Wear loose jeans,” he says quietly, and Jared’s all set to ask why but Jensen’s disappeared.

Jared debates listening to him, natural perversity saying no, inclination saying yes. Inclination wins out and he pulls on a baggy pair and a nice t-shirt.

Their parents retain a ‘see no evil, no evil exists’ attitude towards parties and have since Jared was sixteen, which he’s never abused so which still remains his. He’s not really planning on drinking anyway, though he tells his dad he’ll ring home and let them know if they end up crashing there. They’re both silent as Jared drives them over, knee jiggling a little bit in anticipation of what, he doesn’t even know. Danni greets them at the door, looking hot in a dress that shows more than it covers, a smacking kiss on the cheek for Jensen, a hug for Jared, and leads them in. It’s not a massive party, not yet anyway. Jensen hands over a bottle of vodka and ignores Jared’s accusing stare as to where and when he’d obtained it, and Danni takes them through to the main room, and supplies them both with red cups of vodka and coke. “Everyone brought vodka,” she said with a grin. “It’s going to be a battle royale for the beer. Perk of college.”

Jared drains his fast and a second one soon after, at which point Jensen disappears and returns with a glass of water and a beer which he produces after the water has been drained. “Pace yourself,” he says, and doesn’t disappear back into the crowd but slumps down on the sofa next to Jared, their thighs not exactly touching, but near enough to make no difference, and Jared wants to run his fingers over Jensen’s leg but that’s a bad idea.

_Pace yourself_ , he thinks and chugs back half the bottle. It sloshes a little uneasily with the vodka and the water, the pull of it just beginning to take effect. He knows most people in the room by sight at least, they know him as Jensen’s little brother but he can live with that. He strikes up a conversation with a cute girl when Jensen finally wanders off with Danni, and she tells him to dance with her, flirty dark eyes peeking up at him, even though he’s nowhere near drunk enough to dance. Turns out she isn’t either, just wanted to scare him.

She’s fun to talk to, maybe a year older than him, and at any other time he’d be thinking score because she’s exactly his type. Only, half the time he’s talking to her, he can feel his eyes wandering over the crowd that’s beginning to thicken, and more than that, he catches himself thinking about where Jensen is, who is he with. He’s kind of horrified at himself, to be honest. He’d never have thought he was the jealous type - easy come, easy go has been the story of his life up until now.  _Maybe you’ve never had something worth being jealous of,_  he thinks, and offers to get Gen another drink. She accepts, and Jared uses the opportunity to scan through the party, see if he can spot Jensen.

He’s in the kitchen as it happens, with Danni and the drinks. She’s perched up on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle as she toasts something Jensen says, and something hot and ugly sits in Jared’s gut. He  _likes_  Danni. She’s never treated him like a tagalong, always made a point of inviting him along, not just as Jensen’s little brother but for himself. Right this second none of that means a thing. He stands irresolutely in the doorway and it’s Danni who spots him.

“Jared,” she hollers, as she hops off the counter and scoots past Jensen, hugs him hard enough that he can feel vodka heave in his stomach, and smiles at him, big and wide. Behind her, Jensen’s looking straight at Jared. Jared doesn’t feel jealous anymore, not with Jensen looking at him like he wants to eat him up in front of everyone.

“Heya Danni,” he says automatically. “Looking hot.”

She wrinkles her nose at him. “Are you hitting on me? You’re way too young for that - Jensen would skin me alive.”

“And wear you as a coat,” Jensen adds. “Look at him, he’s much too innocent.”

“Fuck you am I big enough for a coat. A bolero jacket at most.”

“A pair of gloves,” Jared adds, and Danni taps his arm in emphasis.

“Exactly,” she says, “pair of gloves. Though that’s still so fucking gross, Jensen.” Snapping her fingers, she holds out a hand expectantly and Jensen gives her the bottle. “I’m gonna look after my guests,” she says. “You two hang in here with your weird Psycho fantasies.”

Jensen walks closer and Jared holds his breath. “Checking up on me?” he says, and there’s a smile in his eyes.

“Nope,” Jared replies. “Getting a drink, you egotistical fuck.”

“You sweet-talk so good,” Jensen says.

Jared chokes back a laugh. “How much have you had to drink exactly?”

“Not much,” Jensen says, and he is suspiciously close now. “Just about enough to think this is a good idea.”

For one brutal second, Jared thinks Jensen means  _this_ , and it almost winds him. Then Jensen’s kissing him in the middle of Danni’s house, and yeah, this is the worst idea Jensen’s ever had. There’s an unlocked door between them and the rest of the house, the chances of them getting caught are astronomically high. Jared is blindingly hard, thinks the blood must have rushed down to his dick too fast because he’s not saying a single thing to stop this. He pulls Jensen in closer, sweet grind against him making his legs shake.

They break apart just as someone pushes into the room. It’s Chris, giving them both a weird look. “Thought you’d be downstairs,” he said. “That’s where people are smoking.”

Jensen grabs a cup of booze for himself. “Not smoking tonight, Chris,” he says easily.

“You, Jared?” Chris asks, and his eyes linger just a second too long as though he’s curious.

Jared hopes he doesn’t look as kissed as he feels, ducks his head and downs another cup from the ones gathered on the counter. “Not me,” he says, hopes the flush in his face is attributable to being a lightweight.

“ _Definitely_  not him,” Jensen says, and Jared bristles up instinctively because being told what to do in an older brother tone irritates him as much as it gets him hot, and there’s no universe where those two things should go together.

“It’s not like I haven’t smoked pot before,” he says, just to see Jensen’s face.

“Don’t want to hear it, don’t want to know it,” Jensen says, and heads into the main room, where clearly news of the party has spread because there’s more people Jared doesn’t recognise. There’s even a few people jerking desperately slightly out of  time to the music, faces flushed and hot with alcohol, and Jensen takes one look at them, and heads down to join the smokers anyway, Jared sticking with him. The basement used to be the house playroom, now it’s the den. Danni’s parents are way easier going than Jared’s father or Jensen’s mother are, and they don’t use the room anyway, while outside is too close to the neighbours. So anyone smoking weed does it downstairs, generally watching the worst films in Danni’s collection.

Tonight’s no exception - the lights are off, and The Room is on the small TV, air thick and heavy with the green smell of pot. They’ve clearly come in at the end of a joint, which Jared is fine with. He has a feeling that that’s not what Jensen’s brought him down here for. Everyone else is sitting on the floor, Jensen takes the sofa and Jared sits down, until Jensen pulls him down, so Jared’s partly sprawled on him, braced enough that he can see the film as well. Nobody is looking at them, he half thinks that people are mostly asleep - there’s two usual suspects who begin at the start of an evening and generally fall asleep before midnight.

Jared freezes when he feels Jensen’s hand settle itself on the dip of his back, fingers lightly stroking the skin. When he catches Jensen’s eye, there’s a tease there and also a silent reassurance that Jared can pull away if he wants to, call all this off. Conversely that makes Jared want it all more. He consciously relaxes back into the tickle of Jensen's hand, and Jensen given an inch takes a mile, slides his hand between the loose jeans and Jared's boxers, until his hand is cupping the curve of Jared's ass, and Jared can hardly force a breath into his lungs, dizzy with fear and excitement, shallowness of his air making his heart beat painfully fast. Jensen's hardly touching him, just the warmth of his hand soaking through Jared's boxers. If they weren't in a room with three other people, Jared would be naked already at the promise of that touch.

Jensen pulls back a little and insinuates his fingers under Jared's boxers, and all the way back down, hand burning against his skin. Jared watches the screen with blank eyes, but he can't think of anything other than the smooth slide of Jensen's fingers between the cheeks of his ass, the curious press of his fingers, and when Jensen's fingers, seemingly more through accident than design, tuck right up against his hole, he almost hisses, catches himself, glazes over again at the way he wants to spread for the push of Jensen's fingers, dry and insistent against him. The thump of his heart seems too loud for the room, and he can feel the tiny flex of his thighs,  how much he wants it, feels like the whole of him is straining back for what Jensen can give him.  

Jensen is being a tease, though, more than a tease, he's driving Jared to the edge with nothing more than the casual pad of his fingers at the meat of Jared's ass and the teasing hint of sensation at his hole. Jared can feel the fine layer of sweat on his brow already, has been chewing his lip in an attempt to not open his mouth and ask for more. He’s uncomfortably hard, thick swell of his dick pressing against the soft denim of the too big jeans that he’s so fucking glad Jensen told him to wear. He can feel every minute shift, the cant of his hips backward, the ache of needing more than he’s been given, and that is precisely nothing.  He can feel the heavy presence of everyone around them; Daniel’s making stupid jokes now, but Jared can’t hear a word of them, exposed and stripped so much of all possible defense.

It’s all anticipation, and he can’t take much more of being this on edge, riding the fear that someone might see what they’re doing, and the way Jensen’s driving this reaction out of him with no more than the promise of a touch. Then Jensen’s hand is gone, and he’s sucking on his fingers with the concentration of someone who has one job and intends to do it, and even if Jared didn’t know where those fingers would be going, it’d look obscene, Jensen’s wet mouth closing around them, clinging to the slick lengths, cheeks hollowed. Jared’s pushed his dick into that mouth, he knows what it feels like, the warmth around Jensen’s fingers, and he looks away before he groans. It’s almost a shock to feel the wet slide, purposeful now, like Jensen’s mapped his territory - no more hesitation, just the not quite slick enough push of the first of Jensen's fingers into Jared's ass.

Jared thinks he might have forgotten how to breathe - at least the first breath he takes sounds practiced, an unsubtle hitch. Jensen's hand is mostly gripping the curve of his ass now, one finger pushing a little bit further, and it's not the feel of it that makes Jared want to crawl out of his skin with the need. He's done this before, when he first realized what Jensen made him feel. Had experimented, and not just with Jensen on the phone. It's the casual possession Jensen's taking of him that makes him feel like this, the utter abandon of what they're doing. There's no way to explain it. They could explain almost anything else, but they could never explain this - not the way Jensen's spreading Jared wide with his fingers. Jared can feel the sharp spark of fear sitting in his stomach, adding weight to every touch, getting him hotter and harder at the thought that if someone turns around right now, they’ll both be more fucked than Jared’s ass.

There's the fading spark of a drink or two in his veins, but it's not nearly as molten hot as this feels, the way that Jensen tucks a second finger up to the reluctant yield of Jared's body and presses, lets Jared feel the almost painful jolt that goes through his body. He wants more, needs more, can't get off like this, the steady pulse of Jensen’s fingers twitching inside him, not fucking him even a little bit, resting there like he’s perfectly content to do this for as long as he wants. It’s the sort of patience that Jared’s never seen from his brother, and it blows his mind that here and now is where Jensen’ll show it.

He can feel the steady hardness of his dick, uncomfortable now, and he knows himself, knows he’s going to be so wet that it’s a very real possibility it’s going to show, and it perversely only makes him harder, hot liquid shiver spilling through his body, face flushed with blood, the heat visible, it must be, if anyone looks. He breathes carefully, slow inhales and exhales as dialogue is whined out onscreen, and Jensen tugs him apart, knuckles deep inside him, no longer even a little slick. He wonders if Jensen is even half as hard, suspects he might be even worse off, if the way he’s trembling ever so slightly is an indicator.

It’s the shred of common sense living in his hind brain that tells him they can’t do this, not to the inevitable conclusion - Jared coming all over himself, Jensen’s fingers working it out of him. It’s a small enough room that people will  _know_. It wouldn’t matter how many times he pointed out that they weren’t  _technically_  brothers, there’s nothing on earth that would make it okay, and even though the thought panics him enough to scare the air from his lungs, it makes him almost sick with want at the same time. He can’t communicate that to Jensen, though, just clenches down hard at the thought, then moves away for the first time from the encroachment of Jensen’s hand. “Need a drink,” he says, and his voice actually wobbles.

“Get me one?” Steve says, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Sure,” Jared says, and drags himself up, can feel Jensen slip out. Jensen doesn’t even bother pretending he has an excuse when he follows Jared out. They’ve been in Danni’s house enough times to skip the bathroom downstairs and head to her parents’ master bathroom at the back of the house, and to lock the bedroom door and the bathroom door as well before they stumble in. Jared’s struggling out of his jeans and Jensen’s fumbling at his own before giving it up as a bad job,  getting a knee in between Jared’s legs and spinning him around so his elbows are braced on the counter where presumably Danni’s mother applies her makeup each day, and Jared’s going to get even with him for this, going to get Jensen screaming and squirming, just as soon as he gets the chance. He’s got a good thing going right now, though, Jensen’s hand trailing up between his thighs, casual and proprietary, and Jared catches sight of himself in the mirror - would blush if his face could get any redder.

He looks desperate, hectic colour in his face, hair a fucking mess, and he can’t see Jensen behind him, can just feel his hands tugging at his ass, and that should have warned him, because Jensen sure as hell doesn’t. The only warning he gets is a hot breath on his ass, and then Jensen pressing his tongue to where his fingers had been, padding at where Jared already feels swollen and sore from the dry thrust of Jensen’s fingers, even more sensitive than usual, and he bites down hard on his own arm. Jensen is holding him apart and in contrast with the firm grip of his hands, his tongue is tentative, the touch so feather light that Jared spreads his knees wider, leans all his weight on his arms, until Jensen yanks at his leg, drags it up to rest on the toilet lid, and licks in a way that makes Jared’s blood run cold with the nastiness of the thrill that he gets from it. He bows his head and stares at the marble of the countertop as Jensen pushes his tongue against the tightness of Jared’s body, feels himself open around the tip of it, and he can’t hold off a single second longer. Risks his balance to get his hand around his dick and jerk himself off, squirms back against the pressure of Jensen’s mouth. His hips are jerking forward into his hand as he masturbates, but Jensen moves with him, iron grip on the flesh of his ass.

At some point Jensen tries to work a finger in beside his tongue, and the unfamiliar sensation combined with Jared’s own hand is enough to make Jared come, wet all over his hands, an orgasm that leaves him so shaken he thinks he might pass out if Jensen weren’t still touching him, pressing his fingers into his thighs so hard Jared will probably bruise. He tucks his head into his elbow, face and eyes down, needs to shut it out for a moment, the intenseness of how hard he just came, the lassitude spreading through his body like now he’s come, the vodka is taking revenge.

“Fuck me,” Jared says, and his voice comes out blurred and strange, a rasp in his throat. He’s ready for it, from Jensen’s tongue, Jensen’s fingers, feels wide open and stretched, like Jensen could slide inside and use him without any more prep needed. He wants it, heavy ache inside him asking for it still, and deeper, below the want, there’s the fear that if Jensen doesn’t fuck him, he’ll lose all of this. It’s not rational or fair, but it’s there, the creeping thought that he needs it all, like some security against the future, of Jensen waking up from a months long fugue and thinking the better of it all.

Jensen takes a sharp breath, and Jared can feel his hands jerk against his skin. “Fuck,” he says, still so close that Jared can almost feel the words more than hear them, and he’s still touching Jared, still pressing his fingers in, two fingers deep again, as though he can’t stop.

For a moment, Jared thinks he might actually go ahead, spits out, “do it.”

Then Jensen’s pulling his fingers out, pressing embarrassingly soft kisses to Jared’s skin. “What would mom say if she knew I’d fucked you in a bathroom for your first time?”

Jared almost physically jerks at the sound of that, like he’s been punched in the stomach and there’s a hot flutter in his stomach at the thought of his family ever knowing about this, that is even more fucked up than everything else they’ve done. It shouldn’t get him hot, have him perk up for round two, but it ties into every nasty thought he’s ever had, the worst porn he’s ever watched. “Not my first time, asshole,” is what he takes refuge in. Jensen knows that.

“First time with  _me_ ,” Jensen says, matter of fact like that’s all that counts.

Jared untangles himself from his own limbs and sits down on the lid of the toilet, can feel how wet he is still. Jensen gets up from the floor, and now that Jared’s need has worn off, he can see that Jensen looks almost painfully hard - jeans undone but not off, and it should look stupid, but there’s a kick in his gut that makes him want to be hard again, properly hard not the interested half-hardness his dick is struggling back to.  

“Come on,” Jensen says, and he’s tugging his jeans back up. “We’re going to be missed.”

The thought penetrates Jared’s orgasm-fuzzed brain. Jensen looks like he’s been ridden hard - his mouth has the kind of puffiness that Jared associates in his limited experience with hour-long makeouts and blowjobs, but he still hasn’t come, and now he’s acting like he isn’t going to. Jared’s not letting that stand. He means to be a little bit sexy, drag Jensen closer by his belt or something, but it’s more desperate than anything, fingers hooking into Jensen’s boxers, until he’s so close Jared can practically smell him, the arousal coming off him. He did that, Jared thinks, kind of awed. Jensen’s this turned on just from touching him.

With clumsy hands he tugs Jensen’s jeans down even further, boxers with them, and takes a moment just to look. Jensen’s so hard, he must be hurting, and he’d soaked all the way through his boxers, wet blurt of precome staining them. Even now, he’s got his fists clenched by his sides, not touching Jared at all, like he thinks Jared might say  _no_ , which makes no sense, because all Jared’s ever said since they’ve begun is _yes_. He tucks it away for consideration, gets back to business, draws on his extensive experience of giving one whole blowjob - and that was mostly just getting his mouth fucked. Licks the slickness from the crown of Jensen’s dick, carefully, methodically, trying to tease Jensen into grabbing his hair like Jared thinks he might want it grabbed. Jensen doesn’t, he just braces himself on the towel rail and waits, rocks himself ever so slightly, just enough to push at Jared’s lips as though he’s asking permission.

Jared opens his mouth, lets Jensen slip in, moves forward to take him in fast, and promptly chokes, throat seizing up around Jensen’s dick, which at last surprises a moan out of Jensen. Jared’s face flushes up again, he can feel the slow crawl of it down his chest. It looked so much easier on film, Jensen made it look downright fun even, and he can’t even get half of it in. He wants to do it like they did last night, Jensen fucking his mouth like he owned it, like he knew how much Jared could take, but even more of him wants this - Jensen letting Jared do what he wants. Second time he goes slow, sucks at the head of Jensen’s dick, lets his mouth stretch around it, relying on the visuals, and sure enough Jensen lets out a small, stifled sound, fist pushing at his mouth as he stares down at Jared, and finally touches him, runs his hand over his cheek, pushes at the bulge of his own dick in Jared’s mouth, and Jared sucks harder.

He’s got both hands hanging onto Jensen now, face pressed as far against him as he can manage, only Jensen in his vision, all of his senses taken up, still nowhere near getting him all in, but not caring - Jensen’s finally moving, slow thrusts in time with the eager hollowing of Jared’s mouth. Jared’s mouth is sore, as swollen as Jensen’s now, he can feel the heat and puffiness of his mouth, but he can’t stop himself or make them take it easy. He grabs Jensen’s ass when Jensen pulls out, accidentally digs his nails in too deep as he feels himself lose balance, and Jensen comes just like that, eyes wide open and astonished as he looks down at Jared, comes all over his face, thick white spatter on his mouth and cheeks, Jared as shocked as Jensen looks.

It’s not nearly as shocked as Jared thinks they both must look at the drunken banging at the door. Jared almost brains himself trying to get his jeans back on, and Jensen tries to do up his flies, while groping for the air freshener and only succeeding in spraying shaving cream into the air which accomplishes absolutely nothing, and in fact makes the situation look worse. There’s a frantic moment where Jared can’t think of any way this can be explained, before Jensen pushes him to his knees, and it’s so fucked up that the first thought Jared has is that they just did that, before he gets it. Jensen unlocks the door as Jared semi-realistically heaves into the toilet, and explains to the girl waiting outside that Jared’s feeling sick, hears the “lightweight” accusation that he can’t counter while he’s like this.

Jared flushes the toilet and cedes the room to her - she’s so drunk that she doesn’t even notice anything is weird - and wanders out to the bedroom, Jensen’s hand on his shoulder, before he grasps the obvious - they locked the doors, so whoever is in the bathroom now was in the bedroom when they stumbled in. He unlocks the door and stumbles out into the light of the hallway, feels Jensen spin him round and swipe his hand over Jared’s face. Jesus, he’s still covered in come, and it shouldn’t be hot, it definitely shouldn’t, but it is, knowing that Jensen did that to him, in the bathroom of Danni’s house.

The rest of the party is a blur, there’s a few more drinks, and he’s beginning to ache. Eventually he loses Jensen somewhere, and crawls into a bed that he’s 90% sure isn’t one he’s supposed to be in, and sleeps the sleep of the dead. Waking up, it’s not his ass that hurts, it’s his lower back, and he’s got a mouth that tastes like it’s been used as a trashcan. He’s next to Jensen, who is snoring like he always does when he sleeps like this. Jared’s not going to let him forget that, wishes he had a camera to hand to immortalize this moment forever.

He rolls over in preparation for getting up - there’s someone on the floor beside the bed as well, head tipped down in sleep, blanket draped over them. Danni’s going to rope them into cleaning, he’s sure of it, but he can’t bring himself to care. Before he can get up, though, Jensen’s pulling him back, pressing him down into the mattress for the quietest possible kiss. Jared can’t help it, he responds to that touch, even though he knows this is the worst possible place for it.

“When we get home,” he manages to get out. “And you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Jensen laughs. “Deal. In our bed.”

Jared can’t wait for it, brother or not. He makes to get up again before whoever has crashed on the floor wakes up and sees them cuddling, but Jensen yanks him back again. “The internship,” he says. “Two weeks are at the central office. I’m renting a double room, you know if you wanted...” He stops, and Jared watches in mild fascination as pink sweeps Jensen’s face.

“Fuck yes,” he says without even waiting for Jensen to finish. Two weeks with Jensen, alone, with nobody knowing what they are? He can’t think of anything better.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/feedback/concrit is always welcome


End file.
